


help me get my feet back on the ground

by prancelance



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Anxiety, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, am i projecting onto fitzroy?, little bit yeah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:55:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24726358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prancelance/pseuds/prancelance
Summary: Fitzroy, who is sitting on the ground at the foot of his bed, knees pulled to his chest, whips his head up to look at the offending noise, and his face is streaked with tears.“Go away, Argo,” he says hurriedly, but the crack in his voice squanders any chance of that happening.Prompt: "Just hold my hand, please."
Relationships: Argo Keene/Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt
Comments: 8
Kudos: 116





	help me get my feet back on the ground

**Author's Note:**

  * For [feychella](https://archiveofourown.org/users/feychella/gifts).



> feychella on tumblr requested "96 with maplekeene!"
> 
> 96\. "Just hold my hand, please."
> 
> title from help! by the beatles

Argo is hungry.

He realizes this the second he finishes looking over his essay for his blame-taking class, certifying that all the t’s are crossed and i’s are dotted. He stretches his hands over his head, his back letting out a satisfying crack.

“Hey, Firbolg,” Argo calls, stacking the pages of his essay into a neat pile.

“Yes?” He looks up from the book he was reading on the couch. The two of them are in the common area of their dorm, which they have been getting quite a lot of use out of so far. Whether they’re studying, eating, or just hanging out, the Thundermen have actually been spending a lot of time together as a group, or at the very least, a lot more than they had previously.

“I’m starved. You wanna go get some food?”

“Yes, I am also very hungry.” The Firbolg replied, shutting his book softly and placing it on the table in front of the couch.

“Sweet,” Argo stands up from his place at the table, stretching again (how long has he been sitting there?). “I’ll go see if Fitz wants to come, too.” He strides over to Fitzroy’s door, opening a little so that he can stick his head in. “Hey, Fit--” and his words die in his mouth at what he sees.

Fitzroy, who is sitting on the ground at the foot of his bed, knees pulled to his chest, whips his head up to look at the offending noise, and his face is streaked with tears. His red eyes are alarmed at the intrusion, but there’s something else behind them that Argo can’t place-- maybe shame? His gold-rimmed glasses lay on the floor, almost like they were tossed away haphazardly, and his hair is tousled in a way that is definitely not purposeful.

“Go away, Argo,” he says hurriedly, but the crack in his voice squanders any chance of that happening. Argo steps inside, quickly closing the door.

As he slowly moves closer to Fitzroy, he holds his hands up, making sure that all of his movements are predictable. “I’m just going to try to help you. Is it okay if I sit down next to you?” Fitzroy’s forehead goes back to his knees, but he gives a little nod. Argo picks up his glasses, folding them and gently placing them on the bed before sitting down next to him.

Now that he’s closer, Argo can see that Fitzroy is shaking and his breathing is labored, confirming his suspicions that he’s in the middle of the panic attack. “Is there anything I can do for you, Fitzroy? Do you have any medicine you need to take? Can I help you through any breathing exercises?”

“All out. Already doing them. **Just… hold my hand,** ” and he unravels the arm closest to Argo from where it’s gripping his legs, holding out his shaking hand. “ **...Please.** ”

Argo immediately does what he's asked, steadying Fitzroy’s hand with a gentle squeeze. Fitzroy squeezes back tenfold, but gradually his grip gets softer, his head falling back against the bed as he takes deep breaths in through his nose.

“Blue,” he says out loud, opening his eyes, and Argo is confused for a second before he continues. “I can see the sky. I can smell hydrangeas. I can taste blueberries.” He hesitates. “I-I can feel Argo’s hand. I can… I-”

“You can hear,” Argo supplies. He’s very familiar with this particular method of calming down, naming one thing from each color for each of the five senses, having used it many times himself.

“Right, hearing. I always forget that one. I can hear... “ Fitzroy’s eyes screw back up, his shoulders hunching as his breathing begins to be more sporadic. “What the hell does it even mean to hear something blue? Fucking jazz?”

“It’s okay, Fitzroy. I’m here. You’re doing so good, just keep focusing on your breathing. Focus on your colors.” Argo tries to speak as soothingly as possible, and the sound of his voice seems to bring Fitzroy back down a bit. 

“Yellow. I can see the sun. I can feel my cloak.”

After a few minutes of listing off his senses, along with some gentle affirmations from Argo, Fitzroy’s attack seems to have passed, although not without taking its toll on him. He’s limp as he leans against Argo, his breathing back to normal but still somewhat tired. Argo’s rubbing small circles into his back, something his ma used to do after his attacks.

“Do you want me to get you some water?” Fitzroy nods weakly, shifting his weight off of Argo’s side, lying back against the foot of the bed. Argo stands, picking a cup up off of the bedside table and creating water to fill it. He hands it to Fitzroy, and he gingerly takes a sip before realizing that he’s very thirsty and takes a few sizable gulps. He sits cross-legged next to Fitzroy, watching as he finishes the glass before filling it again (in all his post-panic fuzz, Fitzroy is confused for a second at the sudden appearance of more water before he remembers his friend’s unique ability).

“You know, you’re a lot better at cursing when you’re mid-panic,” Argo says in an attempt to diffuse the tension. It works, and Fitzroy chuckles a bit, albeit feebly.

“Yes, well. It has more weight behind it then.” He looks up from his glass at Argo. “Thank you, Argo. For helping me.”

Argo waves it off. “Don’t even worry about it, Fitz. I know exactly how you feel. I’m happy to help you any time you need me, okay?”

“Okay,” and it’s soft, barely loud enough for Argo to hear. 

“I’m going to go ask the Fitbolg to grab us some food, and I’ll stay with you here for as long as you need me to. We can talk about it if you feel like you want to, or we can talk about something else to get your mind off of it.” He hesitates. “Unless, of course, you’d be more comfortable alone, in which case--”

“No,” Fitzroy takes his hand again. “No, it’s nice to have someone here. To help me get my feet back on the ground, so to speak.” Argo smiles at him, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. 

“Alright. I’ll stay.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! I hope you liked it!


End file.
